


Redefined

by Eloarei



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Far Future, M/M, Outer Space, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloarei/pseuds/Eloarei
Summary: Newt knows who he is, and has been for centuries. Hermann knows who he's not, and always wished he was. The drift knows who they were, and who they could be, and who they'll have to be if they want to save humanity again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like... 2 years ago, and haven't touched it since, but I recently remembered how much I loved writing it, so I thought I'd take another look at it. I've got about 13k (8 short chapters) so far, and it's very possible that I will never finish it because I am terrible, but it's also possible that I will, if people want me to. So there's that for a warning; it's definitely not finished. 
> 
> The general premise (because summaries are no place for summaries, right?) is that 200 years and roughly 7 generations in the future, some peoples' families have passed their memories down through the Drift, causing their descendants to more-or-less BE them, which can be useful when it turns out that there's a need for some very specific information your ancestor had. 
> 
> And one more thing before the story; a quote:   
> (...)-life did not begin at my birth. Others have been here before me, and I walk in their footsteps. (...) I am the sum total of their experiences, their quests. And so are you.   
> -Elie Wiesel

Newt could remember exactly where he'd been and what he'd been doing when the news originally broke of humanity's first encounter with the creatures that future generations would come to consider our race's mortal enemy. The memory was so intense, so built into his blood that he could feel it like a pressure throughout his whole body, that it remained a driving force even after most of his other memories had faded into the obscurity of old television re-runs. But the fear and fascination of that supposedly 'once in a lifetime' moment did little to temper him for the news of humanity's most recent encounter.   
  
Or the coffee he'd spill all over his work station.   
  
“Are you shitting me?!” he asked rhetorically, ignoring the swarm of tiny cleaner drones that scurried in to sop up the mess, obscuring his keyboard with little bio-mechanical legs and thoraxes. He threw his elbows up on the table, knocking equipment askew in his careless haste to focus on the words streaming from his earpiece.   
  
“Officials have confirmed that the Kaiju homeworld has, finally, been identified. Preliminary reports released to the public don't include the location of the planet, but statements from several reliable sources indicate that the HHDC intends to begin mobilizing forces to nearby systems as soon as possible. Officials have not stated whether a draft is planned, but many speculate that the HHDC will be opening their ranks to drift-compatible pairs soon, particularly those with strong memories of previous Kaiju encounters.”   
  
Spilling coffee all over his work station wasn't a particularly memorable event (he'd done it before; honestly, what scientist hadn't, at some point?), and the drones had the mess mostly cleaned up before the announcement was over, but Newton would find in the future that the sweet smell would always remind him of the moment when over a hundred years of memories finally became relevant.   
  
Two-hundred and fifty years of memories, give or take. Newton thought it was probably more than just about anybody else had, with the exception of, perhaps, any distant cousins of his who may have continued the drift, and the families of the handful of Jaeger pilots who had survived. So, given the potential of reproduction, maybe hundreds of people out there in the empire had as long a span of memory as he, but it was still something he took an exponential amount of pride in. Exponential because, of course, his mother had been proud of it, and _her father_ before that, and _his_ father before that, and so on and so forth, and the original Newton Geiszler had been proud _to a fault_ of all his accomplishments, so it had rather compounded on him.   
  
His other emotions regarding the Kaiju and associated phenomenon had also compounded, but they'd seemed fairly insignificant for the greater portion of his life. Not a trace of the Kaiju or their Masters had been seen, heard, or detected in any way since they'd been defeated back in the early 2000's, so the passions Newton Geiszler felt about the monsters had simmered under the skin for generations. Now, with the sweet smell of coffee (cream, four sugars, and some vanilla), those passions had become relevant, and they joined the memory of the very first encounter built like pressure in his blood.   
  
It was really happening. After all these years, he'd finally get to see them again, for the first time, maybe, get his hands on some of that toxic blue, see with his own two eyes what the fuss was about. They'd _just_ found their home world, so possibly he was getting ahead of himself, but he knew, perhaps better than almost anyone, the impact the Kaiju invasion had had on humanity's psyche, and he knew the HHDC wasn't going to sit around for long before they launched the attack the whole race had been viciously wanting for a quarter of a millennium. It was exciting! It was frightening. Mostly it was surreal, to think that he'd been essentially made for this day.   
  
Back during the Kaiju war, things had been tense. People had been dying en masse, sovereign nations falling apart from the stress, whole ecosystems ruined. After the breach was destroyed, things were still a bit rough, as the world tried to put itself back together, but amid the arguing, humanity had one thing they could agree on: nobody wanted to do that again. (Not even Newt, who felt a strange emptiness at the Kaijus' disappearance, but was still glad beyond words that the horror was over.) So the Pan Pacific Defense Corp stayed around, and everyone felt a little safer for it. Except the fear that had been driven into the population over a decade couldn't just be switched off, especially after details were released about the nature of the breach and the monsters it spewed forth. The PPDC became the HHDC, the Humanity and Homeworld Defense Corps, and we took to the stars in preparation for a preemptive strike. The technologies we'd developed during the war were quickly refitted to allow for easier space travel, once we had the time and breath to spare.   
  
Back on Earth, people were preparing in different ways. The technology that allowed the Jaeger pilots to operate in synch was streamlined and simplified, and new uses were found for it on both the military and civilian circuits. People who had survived the war used the drift to pass their memories on to their children, ensuring humanity would remain vigilant, that the fear and the hope they'd felt would push us to remember the Kaiju long after anyone affected by them lived to remind us.  
  
It worked remarkably well, and the continued hatred of the Kaiju and their Masters pushed humanity faster and farther than anyone had thought possible, until, finally, the monsters seemed to be found.   
  
Newton Geiszler the fourth was _made_ for this moment. The result of nine generations of continued drift, he was one of possibly only hundreds who knew with gut-wrenching terror what the Kaiju were really like, and was potentially the _only_ human still alive who had been inside the mind of one. There were an estimated fifty to one hundred Geiszler cousins wandering the Earth or other human colonies, but none that Newt was aware of had continued the drift through the generations. His predecessors had been singularly devoted to carrying on the tradition, even when drifting had fallen out of popularity several generations back.   
  
Two-hundred and fifty years, give or take, had led up to this. Did the HHDC need him? He wasn't sure. These days, computer simulations were more reliable than human memory, or so they said, so maybe his “first hand” experience was not desired. But he could feel it in him, this fear and rage and fascination and lust for knowledge that had been simmering under his skin and was now boiling, and he couldn't ignore it if he wanted to. Newton Geiszler the first and seven subsequent generations were goading him. “Finish my life's work,” they said not in his ears but in his veins and synapses.   
  
His keyboard was clean now, still smelling faintly of coffee (cream, four sugars, and some vanilla) but not sticky as he tapped his way perhaps a little violently to the HHDC homepage. “Contact”, one tab read, and “Join” said another, but his blood and his synapses were impatient. He went to the source. Maybe the Marshal wouldn't appreciate the intrusion, but Original Newt had never played by the rules, and he'd saved the world. He figured he'd take his chances.   


 


	2. Chapter 2

Hermann could tell you, in great detail, of the events surrounding the Kaiju war. He could tell you in good detail the events that directly followed. He could tell you in moderate detail of the subsequent two centuries, and passing details of current events, because current events were more or less horridly boring, at least until the past week or so. He was good at many things, frustratingly so to some of the people who were obliged to be in his presence, but if he had to pick a forte to boast, it would be his understanding of history.   
  
The Kaiju war was a fascinating time, a huge turning point in human culture. If the explosion of technology in the 20th century could be likened to an atomic bomb, the rate at which our knowledge expanded in the following era was like a supernova. History before the Kaiju invasion didn't hold a candle to what came after, in terms of sheer awesomeness.   
  
He wished he could have been there.   
  
How amazing it must have been, to be at the forefront of such technological advancements as the Jaegers, and the Drift. The Jaegers were the first of their kind, the first mobile constructs of such massive size, not counting space stations, which were really only mobile in the barest sense. And the Drift, it revolutionized nearly every aspect of modern communication. And it was _his_ great-ancestor who had helped save the world using these technologies! Hermann Gottlieb the First had been an incredible, talented man, intelligent beyond reckoning, according to history books and what little he could beg from his living relatives. He was one of humanity's saviors!   
  
And yet, his senseless, incomprehensible predecessors had let him slip away. All that knowledge, all that experience! All gone, because some idiot great-grandparent of his in the 2100's had listened more to popular hype than the rush of his own blood!   
  
The Drift Scare was probably _the_ saddest period in relatively-recent history, in Hermann's opinion. Someone had gotten the idea out that the continued passing of memories could cause long-term brain damage or something of the sort, so the use of the technology fell largely to the wayside, and veritable oceans of first-hand knowledge were lost. It was like plunging back into the dark ages, forced to deal with unreliable, written history. His own family had fallen for it, and instead of passing on the genius of Hermann Gottlieb, the man who saved the world, they simply let it die. Hermann, the modern one, was ashamed, and enraged, and... a little lonely. As a child, learning what he should have inherited was both a relief and a source of great depression. He'd always felt something was missing, and while it was nice to know what that something was, it was unbearable to know he'd never be able to get it back. Doctor Gottlieb, the genius, the savior, was dead and gone. Some imbecile he had the misfortune of calling an ascendant had killed him.   
  
Naturally, Hermann the Modern had learned all he could about his namesake. The history books had plenty to say about him and his exploits, even if his own family had mostly forgotten the man. Hermann knew just about everything there was to know about him, had read all his papers, journals, what remained of his notes and even personal correspondence. He'd studied extensively in the fields in which the man had worked prominently. But he lacked the personal touch, the apparently indescribable experience he'd heard drifters mention with an expression of reverence on their faces.   
  
Still, Hermann thought, he could at least try to do the man proud. Hermann the First's blood, however diluted it might be by now, ran through his veins, and a thirst for success followed it. The HHDC had found the Kaiju homeworld after centuries of searching, and soon they would be calling all hands to the deck; now was the time to prove himself. He had the credentials. He had the passion. He had the genetic legacy, if not the memories. He hoped that would be enough to persuade the higher-ups to give him a chance.   
  
Now all he had to do was wait for the response.   
  
He hoped his email had been reliably delivered.   
  
He sent a duplicate, just in case. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't that Newton thought the HHDC was incompetent. They weren't. They were really quite efficient; he knew, he'd read most of their private intel. But they were not very imaginative. At least, they hadn't seemed so thus far.   
  
It didn't take long for the Marshal to invite him to their on-world base. The letter he received wasn't technically from the Marshal, but he had to have been the one to authorize it, since the email Newt had sent had been to his personal inbox. So either the Marshal approved of his initiative, or they'd simply sent him an invitation automatically because he was already on their list. Either reason was fine to him.   
  
He left immediately, and was there almost as soon. (Nobody had created teleporters yet, but the Original Newt part of his brain still occasionally took the time to marvel at how fast jets had become, like a technologically un-savvy old man.) He was greeted by a polite android and shown to a moderately comfortable personal sitting room, where he waited around in moderate comfort for a good few hours.   
  
_'Okay, that's fine,'_ he thought, reactivating his Oculus and browsing the internet after a while had gone by without a summons or update. _'They've got an image to maintain, I get it. Don't wanna seem like they're too eager to get their hands on me.'  
  
_ Eventually the android (or one identical to it) returned and guided him down quite a few sparse hallways that were stereotypical in their design. Newt hadn't been in an HHDC facility for over a century, but the place looked more or less like he remembered. This one hadn't even been built back then, but those in charge obviously felt that updating their classic concrete-starship look was a waste of their efforts and hadn't bothered.   
  
When they reached their destination, Newt was a bit surprised to find himself in another plain room that was clearly not the Marshal's office. It seemed to be a testing chamber of sorts, in fact.   
  
The android turned to face him. “Before meeting with the HHDC officers, please submit to a quick examination.” It indicated the Drift stations lined up along the right wall and scooted closer with an encouraging flick of its wrist in the proper direction.   
  
“What?” Newton asked incredulously, although he'd understood the android just fine. He eyed the stations suspiciously. “I know I came here to offer my services, but I'm not cool with you just taking what you need from my brain and throwing me out!” He huffed and crossed his arms. There was no way he was giving all his precious information to some computer! The Drift was supposed to be organic, and he detested the recent trend in over-relying on androids to hold on to the soft, emotive details that made human memory so unique. He loved computers as much as the next guy, but there was just no way a machine could take a man's place in this capacity, a fact he was adamant about.   
  
His guide didn't bat a synthetic eyelash at Newt's paranoid outburst. “All applicants are subjected to a short non-invasive drift-examination to determine that they carry no ill intent towards the HHDC officers.” It gestured again to the stations, but otherwise waited patiently while Newton took a few moments to make a face and some displeased noises before shuffling over to one.   
  
“I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as a non-invasive Drift,” he grumbled, “but fine. Just get it over with.” He sat heavily down at the nearest station and fitted the flexible crown around his head. It was slightly softer and smaller than any he'd used before, and didn't have any hard angles that cut into the skin of his temples, so he grudgingly gave the HHDC some points for that.   
  
“Initiating Drift,” a speaker at the station said, “in three, two, one-”   
  
It was nothing like drifting with a flesh-and-blood person, and Newt didn't like it. It was just as awkward as the few times he'd mech-drifted before for job interviews and the like, and it made him uneasy. Normal, _organic_ drifting had a warm, comfortable feeling to it, even back in the early days when the process had been a little painful. This just felt like being naked in a cold room surrounded by mannequins. And it was an unfairly single-lane transfer; there really wasn't much you could get from a computer through the drift, just some incomprehensible jumbles of numbers and algorithms.   
  
As quickly as it started, it finished, and the android approached him with what Newt thought was supposed to seem like a friendly demeanor. “Am I clean?” Newt asked sarcastically, pulling the crown off his head and hanging it back on the hook on the wall. He rubbed his hands through his hair to fix the parts the crown had ruffled in the wrong directions.   
  
“Follow me to the meeting room,” the android said as it lead him back out into the hall. Newton was annoyed that the thing was so persistent about not answering his questions, but not surprised. He could usually needle at a person until they told him what he wanted, but again, computers just didn't have that human touch.   
  
When they stopped again, it was outside a door that looked at least marginally more grand than the previous one, which Newton thought was a good sign. The android knocked and waited a bare second before pushing the door open and leading him inside, where it motioned to a chair in the middle of the room, facing a small desk and a wall of screens, which Newton thought was a less good sign. He sat anyway, and the android showed itself out, shutting the door quietly between them. The room was fairly dim, until the screens before him flickered on. (He knew the flicker was just an effect, so that the sudden brightness was less jarring, although he remembered back when the flicker was genuine, and the picture wouldn't stabilize, so he had to bang on the absurdly large boxy plastic back of the screen in hopes it would help until his uncle could get home to fix the thing.)   
  
The face on the screens was, thankfully, zoomed out far enough for Newt not to feel like he was suddenly trapped in one of those ridiculous old sci-fi thrillers. Also, it was the face of a normal-looking woman, who didn't seem deranged or possessed or any of the things faces on screens in sci-fi thrillers usually were. That was good, although he was a little mad that he'd had to sit through the drift-exam when he wasn't even going to be meeting anyone in person, apparently. As far as he knew, it wasn't possible to assassinate someone through a screen, even if he _were_ so inclined.   
  
“Newton Geiszler?” the woman asked, though he wasn't sure it was a question.   
  
“That's me,” he responded, ignoring his usual tendency to specify “the fourth”. There were times when that was important; he didn't get the feeling that this was one of them.   
  
The woman's military expression softened a little, into one of professional delight. (Newton recognized the expression easily; it was probably his favorite to see on a person who was actually talking to him, aside from maybe desire, which was all the more precious for being so uncommon.) “It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Geiszler. I'm Major Webb. I head the Kaiju research and defense division.”   
  
“Nice to meet ya, Major. Call me Newt. Only my seventh-great Grandma calls me Doctor.”   
  
Webb didn't laugh at his joke, but she smiled. “Newton, then. I would like to assume that you have come here for the same reasons I've called you, but assumptions are frowned upon in the scientific community. What do you feel you have to offer to the HHDC?”   
  
Newt _felt_ it was pretty obvious what he had to offer, but he understood the assumptions thing. “Well, my ancestor was a pretty great guy, and people say I take after him, so, y'know, I thought that could be useful right around now.”   
  
“It certainly could,” Webb agreed with a nod and a gleam in her eye. “And, in your opinion, what is most useful about the memories of Doctor Newton Geiszler the First?”   
  
Stretching his arms behind his back, Newt smirked at Webb through the screen. “His nine doctorates? His understanding of Kaiju anatomy? His mad sense of style? Take your pick.”   
  
The Major shook her head and fixed him with a smirk of her own, more subtle but still telling of her confidence. “All very impressive aspects of his person, yes, but there is something more unique I was hoping to take advantage of.” She paused for dramatic effect, which Newton appreciated. He raised his eyebrows at her.   
  
“His drift compatibility,” she said. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Hermann was ecstatic to hear back from the HHDC, and pleasantly surprised that the response didn't take as long as he assumed it would. There were billions of people on Earth alone, not to mention the nearby stations and colonies, and if even a fraction of those within the proper age range were even a fraction as excited as he was, then the HHDC probably had _yottabytes_ of mail to sort through.   
  
Instead of questioning his luck at getting not only accepted for an interview but invited so quickly, he packed his things and booked a ticket for the next day's bullet train. He spent most of the night pacing and re-evaluating what he'd decided to bring with him, and getting very little rest for the effort. He tried to sleep on the short train ride, but his nerves felt too tingly under his skin and he couldn't seem to close his eyes.   
  
When he arrived, he found his way to a hall where a fair few other people of various ages were gathered, waiting to be told where to go next. Hermann guessed they might be tested, or sorted into relevant groups, or given some sort of orientation, maybe a speech about how important their upcoming tasks would be to humanity at large. He was partly right; a featureless android came to lead them away in small groups, and when it was his turn, he found they'd been led to a little room with a wall full of drift-examination gear. It was obvious, then, when he thought about it, that that would be their first stop. Most jobs required a drift-exam as part of their initial interview, and really, this, what he was here for, was nothing if not a job. It was the job of all jobs. They wouldn't let just anybody in.   
  
The exam was begun and finished in no time. The few seconds it took passed by in a slow-motion blur, but there was little to grasp from the computer's “memory”, so there was nothing to stretch the time any further. He'd heard before from people who had drifted with other humans that, although it too took only seconds, it was like a dream, that it felt like hours upon hours with all that information to process. Compared to that, there was really nothing to say about drifting with a computer.   
  
He waited a minute for the others in his group to finish their examination and, when they got up to follow the android out to wherever they were bound next, made to join them. But as he was exiting the room back into the hall, a notification popped up on his Oculus that made him pause (necessarily, as he'd never been very good at simultaneously walking and reading).   
  
_'Dr. Gottlieb,'_ it read, _'please report to room 7 of hallway D, indicated on your map.'_ It was just a text notification, entirely devoid of tone or any indication as to why he'd been separated from the crowd, so of course he assumed it was bad and panicked. Lightly. It was a soft panic.   
  
_'Oh god,'_ he thought, biting on the inside of his lip and glancing down the corridor nervously. _'Was there something wrong with my exam? They couldn't have deemed me a threat, could they have?'_ He hadn't been worried before, because he was sure nowhere in his subconscious did he have any inclination toward harm or sabotage of the HHDC, but then he'd been assuming their software was properly operational. Or maybe they'd been scanning for something else entirely, some defect he had that he wasn't aware of, or some other cause for alarm. But then, if it was the Drift machine that was messed up, would they even believe him? Would they bother to check and give him a re-test, or just assume he was guilty? Guilty of what, even? The HHDC was more military than police, but he'd heard they had the authorization to handle threats on their own, and that generally nobody would question them, so if they decided that he was a risk based on some little predisposition a computer supposedly picked up from his brain, they weren't technically required to even give him a fair trial. He'd been so excited to help the world. This really wasn't how he had been expecting things to end up.   
  
A digital map popped up in his vision, with a little dot blinking a few halls away, so he followed it. If they thought he was a threat they wouldn't let him leave the compound anyway, so he figured he may as well not resist.   
  
He passed a few people along the way, most of whom gave him a curt nod or ignored him. He thought he nodded back to the ones who'd acknowledged him, but he wasn't sure. Aside from one or two confused-looking people in civilian dress, the men and women he saw in the halls were dressed in HHDC uniforms of varying formality, and none of them tried to stop him, so his nerves were a bit calmer by the time he reached the room on his map. The map blinked out of existence and left his field of vision clear as he hesitantly knocked on the door. He heard a short, muffled voice from the other side before the door slid open.   
  
“Please come in,” a polite but formal voice said, so he did as he was asked. The inside of the room was more warmly lit than the hallway, still artificial but more amber than the harsh surgical white. There were a few decorative touches placed around the room that made it more comfortable but not quite homey, and several shelves of thick physical books whose leather-like binding further diffused the glow of the overhead lamps. There was also a woman, clearly an HHDC officer, sitting upright behind her desk on the left side of the moderately-seized room. Hermann took a shallow breath, and then a deeper one, and went to stand before her. He laced his hands together behind his back and swallowed thickly.  
  
“Doctor Hermann Gottlieb?” she asked, sounding much more gentle than the stark, impersonal message that had told him to report to this room.   
  
“Yes,” he said, surprising himself with the amount of force he was able to put behind the word. It had felt like a whisper as it was leaving his lips.   
  
“I'm glad you were able to make it, Doctor Gottlieb,” the woman said with a smile. Hermann nodded shortly. “I am Major Webb, head of the Kaiju research and defense division.”   
  
He recognized the name, and it caused his pulse to flutter with a different type of nervousness than he'd been feeling just a minute ago. If they'd thought he were a possible traitor, they wouldn't have sent him to the Kaiju Major. They wouldn't have let him see her at all! If he was here, speaking to her in person, that meant something else. Something else entirely. Major Webb was one of the foremost authorities on Kaiju in this generation; she was bound to be an extremely busy lady. For her to be taking time out of her day to talk to Hermann personally was a great privilege to him. She would not have spared him the time if there was not an important reason, regardless of the relative fame of his predecessor and namesake.   
  
Even in his, well, he wouldn't say 'wildest dreams', but when he'd been thinking of best-case scenarios, he had thought it might be Major Sanchez, head of the Jaeger division, who he would be greeted by. Given his own and Hermann the First's expertise, it made far more sense for him to be recruited to work on Jaegers. He wasn't ignorant about Kaiju, but he wasn't close to what anyone would call an expert. Hermann the First had at least seen them, but he had been a mathematician, a physicist, and Hermann had mentioned in his letter about how his family had discontinued the drift; surely they weren't so starved for information regarding the Kaiju that the HHDC would be grasping for something in him that he had no way of giving them?   
  
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Major Webb,” Hermann said, finally in full control of his voice again. “I'm very grateful to be here, but, ah, I'm not sure how I can help you. My, my experience with Kaiju is extremely limited. I'm sure you read my letter, so you must know-”   
  
Major Webb straightened up only a fraction, but the movement made Hermann shut his mouth and snap his eyes to hers attentively. “Yes, your letter,” she said, much more calmly and composedly than him. “I did receive your letter. This morning.”   
  
_'This morning?'_ Hermann thought, the gears of reason and imagination spinning up in his head. _'After I had already received my invitation?'_  
  
“It was a bit disappointing to read that your family is no longer in possession of the memories of your ancestor,” Webb continued. “I admit I was hoping you carried them.”   
  
“I am sorry, Major,” Hermann said, sighing. “It has always been a regret of mine.”   
  
Webb shook her head. “It's nothing you need to apologize for, Doctor.”   
  
Hermann gave her a wry half-smile of thanks. “I am still hoping to be of some use, Major. I've studied extensively in the same fields my predecessor was proficient in, and although I think I would be better suited to the Jaeger division, if you think you can use me in the Kaiju division, I'm more than happy to help.”   
  
The expression on Major Webb's face was almost secretive. It wasn't a look he'd seen before on an officer of the HHDC, but he supposed she was a scientist also, and he _had_ known scientists to make that face when they'd made a particularly interesting discovery and were reveling quietly in being the only one to know before they finally shared. “I think that the Kaiju division can most certainly find a use for you. You heard the announcement recently?”   
  
“The HHDC has found the location of the Kaiju homeworld, right?”   
  
Webb smirked conspiratorially. “Not quite. We've come very close, but what we've found is actually a series of portals much like the Breach. The Kaiju Precursors seem to use them for travel. We think we know which ones lead to their homeworld, but it's hard to say for sure because we can't decode their language.”   
  
Hermann wasn't sure what to do with this information. It was interesting, but he didn't know how it related to him, or how she was expecting him to react to it. She didn't seem surprised when he didn't respond.   
  
“Our hope was to create a cypher using the memory of someone who had communicated with the Kaiju before.”   
  
An incredulous puff of laughter escaped Hermann before he could censor himself, followed by a petulant denial of her statement. “Nobody's ever communicated with a Kaiju. We haven't even seen a Kaiju since the war, and if we'd been able to talk to them, we could have simply told them to stop destroying us! ...I, I mean...”   
  
Major Webb seemed almost delighted as she watched Hermann stutter himself into abashed silence. When he'd quieted, she told him, in a voice that bordered on obscenely casual for an HHDC officer, “We've already got someone who's communicated with the Kaiju. But one man does not a committee make. We were hoping you could help him.”   
  
Hermann deflated even further than he had after making himself sound like a fool. “This sounds like a very important task, and I'm honored you would consider me for it, but, as I said, there's very little that I know about the Kaiju. I simply don't see how I could be of much use.”   
  
Webb nodded as if she understood his reservations but didn't agree. She steepled her fingers in front of her. “I think the two of you will be very useful to each other. He has some knowledge that I'm sure you will find beneficial if you let him share it.”   
  
A drift. She was implying that she wanted Hermann to drift with this strange man who had apparently somehow communicated with the horrifying monsters they'd feared for centuries. Well, he _had_ come here because he wanted to help. He wasn't sure that someone else wasn't better for the job, but he nodded his acceptance. He would take the job if she thought it would help them accomplish humanity's goal.  
  
“Is this man someone from the scientific community? Someone I might know?”   
  
The Major tipped her head lightly to the side in a 'yes and no' sort of gesture. “I don't think you've met, but I'm quite sure you'll get along. He's very smart and has an, uh, impressive resume.”  
  
“What's this man's name?” Hermann asked, getting the feeling that Webb was avoiding the question for some reason, if only because she liked holding secrets over people's heads.   
  
“Doctor Newton Geiszler,” she told him, with the air of someone who was pretending not to care. “You might have heard the name.”   
  
He _had_ heard the name. He'd read it many a time while he was attempting to learn the ins and outs of Hermann Gottlieb the First's life. He was certainly familiar with the name of the man who helped his ancestor save the world. And suddenly he thought he understood why Major Webb thought they would get along.   
  
_'This Newton must have the old Newton's memories,'_ Hermann assumed. ' _If that's the case, Webb must have hoped “we” would “remember” each other.'_ And clearly she still thought even a one-sided past friendship would be enough to make them good partners. Hermann wasn't sure about that, but if he was right in his presuming of Newton's memories, then he already looked forward to meeting the man in hopes he could hear some real first-hand account of what his sixth-great grandfather had really been like. 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, forgot to post a chapter mid-month. Sorry! Here's this, though.

Surprisingly, Newton had actually _been surprised_ by Major Webb's plan. Not the part about using his memory of the Kaiju to decipher the waves of strange gibberish they'd intercepted around the other breaches, because even he had thought of something like that, but the part about sharing the extra memory that had hitched a ride through his generations but didn't really belong to him.   
  
He hadn't really thought about it, the fact that he had the memories and personality of the early Hermann Gottlieb floating around in his head along with the memories of his own ancestor. He'd always known they were there, but they didn't bother him, and they didn't really affect him in any obvious way. Gottlieb's inclinations didn't wander brazenly into his consciousness like Original Newt's did; he had to actively search them out. But now that he had a reason to think about Hermann, all sorts of little snippets were coming to his attention.   
  
First of all, the fact that Hermann was there in his head to begin with. Obviously, it was because he and Newt's predecessor had drifted. He remembered their first drift, which was also the one that Webb was so interested in, because it was the time the two of them had drifted with the Kaiju and absorbed a fraction of their hive-mind. That had been a big moment. After digging it up from the recesses of his brain, Newt was surprised at just how monumental it was. How was that _ever_ _not_ at the forefront of his attention? It was _that big_. In that single moment, he'd gained a patchwork understanding of an alien race, and a bonus 35 years of human experiences which, in a way, felt like the larger of the two. The only other moment in his memory which was larger was his own personal memory of his drift with his mother, where he acquired _all that and more_ in a burst of electricity which felt, he imagined, like hearing the voice of God from the end of an infinity mirror.   
  
The memory of the two's second drift was less information-intensive, but fuller of feeling. The echoed emotions directly following the previous drift, of realization, horror, urgency; those soon after of triumph; the feelings of satisfaction and drafty, hollow emptiness that came from having accomplished the goal they'd secretly thought would swallow them for the last ten long years. And then the swelling fullness that somewhat took its place, when they realized they'd never be alone in their heads again and that it was, shockingly, a prospect they looked forward to. Then the fluttery feeling that accompanied the decision to drift for a second time in the relative safety of a time and space not immediately threatened with extinction.   
  
It came to Newton the Fourth's attention then, almost suddenly, that the two had really liked each other, whatever that meant. He could see into both of their heads, now that he bothered to look, and they each had a clear, soft, warm spot in themselves that the other occupied, not smooth or clean, certainly cluttered with complication, but near and dear regardless. It was nice, but he didn't know quite what it amounted to, because the two had not drifted again after that, and parted ways soon after in haze of emotion and for no reason he could quite comprehend.  
  
He could see in Newt the First's memory that Hermann Gottlieb was still an important aspect of his experiences, which, as he further analyzed his leftover-stew of memories, was pretty obvious, given how much of Hermann's personality (he now realized) had made it into later generations. If Newton had decided he didn't like Hermann after all, he'd have pushed the man's presence _back_ in his mind, instead of embracing it. It wasn't terribly difficult to ignore something you'd acquired in the drift if it didn't suit your style, which was how he avoided accidentally being attracted to his father or grandmother, and thank goodness for that.   
  
Newton thought about the always-popular argument of “nature versus nurture”, and wondered which category the Drift fell into. Did what he learned through the drift count as “taught”, or was it something unavoidable? He didn't really think about the fairly obvious fact that the drift was not all that influenced his actions. He, like everyone else, was the product of generations of humans acting upon their own preferences, resulting in a man that both resembled and had an intrinsic preference toward that which had inspired his parents and their parents and so on.   
  
He would understand it better after he'd spent some time with his new partner.   
  
It had been a few days since he'd arrived. He'd been set up in a comfortable, if claustrophobic, room in one of the more private corners of the dormitory wing. (Newt wondered if the HHDC would ever get over their aversion to windows. Luckily, it didn't bother him terribly, as his room back during the reign of the PPDC hadn't had any windows either, and this time, at least, they'd bothered with more than concrete and harsh fluorescent lighting.) Webb hadn't exactly shook his hand and said “you're hired”, but she'd told him to make himself at home, and that was more than enough to properly communicate to him that she wanted him to stick around for a while. Actually, given her enthusiasm for the plan she'd concocted, he wasn't sure she'd let him leave even if he wanted. So he set up his room to his liking, threw some half-clean laundry around for a more homey feeling, and waited for the HHDC paper-pushers to get ahold of the Doctor Gottlieb so they could get to the experiments.   
  
There wasn't much to do, since Major Webb was not actually in the building yet, busy somewhere off-world still, apparently, and Newt flat out refused the mech drift she'd casually suggested. She didn't seem too put off by his refusal to have his memories systematically categorized, so little so that he got the feeling it wasn't her idea to begin with. He spent most of his time perusing the HHDC's collection of Kaiju-related intelligence, and measuring it up against his own, adding notes here and there where there were discrepancies.   
  
There were a few days of this, with a little hobnobbing mixed in, and a meeting, finally, with Major Webb in the flesh, before she organized a meeting for the two men the morning after Gottlieb arrived. Eager as she apparently was to get started with the plan, (not _necessarily_ because she was a devoted Major, but more because she was a devoted scientist, Newton thought), Webb decided to sit this one out, a fact that neither of the men knew until half an hour into the meeting.  
  
She (or more likely, her automated secretary) had sent them the usual stark text notification that they were to meet the following morning at the designated location. Newt had texted back arguing that sooner was better than later and they should have gotten started as soon as Gottlieb arrived, but Webb either ignored the somewhat insolent request or her secretary had deleted it without notifying her at all, because she didn't bother responding. So he slept, he woke up, he took a few minutes to make himself presentable (but not _too_ presentable; they were there for science, not peacocking), and went to the morning meeting, where he hoped there would be breakfast.   
  
There _was_ breakfast, a pretty nice spread of the kind of stuff you could get at the cafeteria if you were there right when they opened. (Newton never was.) He was a little early to the meeting, and he hadn't had time to eat before, so he didn't even bother to look around the room before making a bee-line for the laden-down table and filling a paper plate. He would have felt like a huge dork if he stood there stuffing his face for very long before realizing there was someone else in the room, but luckily the other person only let him be an oblivious fool for a moment before clearing their throat.   
  
“Ah, Doctor Newton Geiszler, I presume?” The kid blinked nervously at him, but rose quickly to shake his hand. Well, Newt said “kid”, but the man probably wasn't much younger than him at all. He just had this youthful uncertainty about him that probably didn't have much to do with his age. Honestly, Newton often felt like other people his age, even sometimes people older than him, seemed young in his opinion. Inexperienced, maybe, from not having generations of content to draw on.   
  
“The fourth and only,” he said, smiling winningly. “So are you, uh, Webb's assistant or something?”   
  
The kid, the _guy_ , appeared a little dismayed. “No, er, I'm Doctor Hermann Gottlieb. I was told by the Major to meet here this morning. She said she wanted us to work together.”   
  
Newton was a little shocked. His mind blanked for at least a full second. “Yeah, she did,” he said slowly, while he processed the information he'd just acquired.   
  
_This_ was Herman Gottlieb. _This_ was _Hermann?_ The Hermann he knew was crabby and seemingly self-assured and older than his years and made a ' _Newton you are complete dumbass'_ expression every time he spoke. He wasn't a nervous, youngish guy with what seemed like maybe an actual modern sense of style, who looked like what Newt was saying was any manner of important. But this guy was.   
  
And this guy, based on Newton's observations, didn't have much experience with the drift.   
  
Hermann was just standing there watching him, so Newt stared back, keeping his eyes on him as he stepped around to the couch Hermann had been sitting at and fell into it. “Hey, uh, you don't mind if I eat, right?”   
  
“No, no,” Hermann said politely, waving his hands in acquiescence. So Newt dug in and set about further digesting the situation as he ingested a meal he was only half tasting and Hermann stood there awkwardly.   
  
He wondered if Webb knew. When they'd talked the first time, she definitely seemed to have a plan in mind, and that plan was that he and Hermann would pool their collective knowledge of Kaiju communication to create a cypher. It wasn't something they could very well do if they didn't both posses the knowledge. Newton could definitely do it himself, at least in his opinion, but Webb really seemed set on them working as a team.   
  
Newt took a huge bite of his bagel sandwich and observed Hermann. He didn't even have to pretend he wasn't looking because Hermann was no longer fixing him with that uncertain gaze. He'd found an arm-chair on the other side of the breakfast table and was sitting on the edge of the cushion, maybe ready to spring up and to attention as soon as Webb walked in. He was facing the door, but he wasn't watching it; his eyes had the glazed over look of someone browsing the internet on their Oculus. Every so often his fingers would twitch, like a muscle memory from years spent working with physical hardware, using a mouse instead of minute eye movements.   
  
Maybe, Newton thought, it was unfair to compare this Hermann to the one he'd known in a past life, but he found himself doing it anyway. He noticed that this Hermann seemed younger, and he didn't think it was just because of the drift-experience thing. Newt was a 9th generation descendant; he wondered how far removed this Hermann was from the original. Had to be probably more than six but less than twelve gens. Either way, it didn't really do anything to determining age comparisons. And looks wouldn't be a good indicator either. The First Newt had had tattoos, bedhead, and a vaguely hipster-rockstar style until he'd died of old age; he'd probably been buried that way. (It wasn't a memory he could seem to find, but he didn't feel like he needed it that bad either. It was a little surreal to think about.) On the other hand, Hermann had dressed like an old man since before they'd even met in their early twenties. This guy wore what Newt would probably call nondescript “I am socially and legally compelled to wear clothing” young-adult basics, color-averse edition. Not very Hermanny, in Newt's opinion. Hermann had worn dress shirts and sweater vests with colors and patterns (not very interesting ones, but colors and patterns none-the-less), the antithesis of a plain black t-shirt. And this one's hair! It was _long_. Dark, straight, pulled into a low ponytail, except where it had been kept short on the sides. Hermann probably would have been appalled, but for the little part of him that inexplicably approved. Or maybe that was Newt's personality getting mixed in there, it was hard to tell.   
  
Surprisingly, he realized he was missing Hermann. Missing a man he'd never technically met, while conspicuously staring down that man's descendant. That never really happened to him. He never despaired over the long-ago deaths of his great-great-grandpa's best friends, he didn't regret losing contact with his fourth-great-grandma's favorite cousin, even though the losses had been absolutely devastating at the time. But he missed Hermann Gottlieb almost achingly right now.   
  
And right now there was a man ten feet away from him, sitting stiffly on the edge of his seat, looking like he felt very out of place, who could probably benefit from a bit of ice-breaking.   
  
Newt cleared his throat. “You want any of this?” he asked, nodding towards the table. “The bagels are fresh, not that day-old crap you usually get at the cafeteria.”   
  
Hermann blinked and shook his head (to shut down the Oculus, not at Newt, he realized) and turned to look at him. “No, thank you. The Major didn't mention this would be a breakfast meeting, so I ate beforehand.”   
  
“Alright.” Newt shrugged. “I'll leave you some in case you discover your second stomach.” He ate a little more of the pastry he'd moved on to. Hermann continued to look in his general direction for a few moments and then leaned over to the table and snagged a biscuit of some sort. He nibbled slowly on it like he wasn't hungry but wanted something to do with his mouth and hands. He didn't seem inclined to strike up any conversation, but Newton knew Webb wanted them to get along, and _he_ wanted them to get along, so he took it upon himself as the more experienced one to instigate the awkward necessity-based friendship through awkward necessity-based small talk.   
  
“So what brings you here to this beautiful concrete marvel? Hoping for a relaxing vacation away from the comforts of the civilian world?”   
  
Hermann looked like he was considering playing along with a sarcastic reply, but ended up relying on his usual fallback to sincerity. “I came to offer my assistance, the same reason, I assume, everyone else has for coming.”   
  
“Really? I just came for the fame and fortune.”   
  
A light smile and a sort of glazed look came over Hermann's face. “I wouldn't protest some recognition,” he said.   
  
Maybe not the words but perhaps the honest, wistful tone made Newton laugh. “Wow.”   
  
“W-what?” The soft dreaminess on Hermann's face turned to alarm.   
  
“It's just... _you_ , man,” Newt said, gesturing in Hermann's direction. “You're the same but different. It's just weird.”   
  
Hermann's eyes narrowed, not suspiciously, but in anticipation. “You mean, as compared to the Hermann Gottlieb _you_ know.”   
  
Newt took a moment to be annoyed at Webb for obviously filling Hermann in more than she'd bothered to do with him. Honestly, she should have told him the guy was a clean slate instead of forcing him to make assumptions. Wasn't she the one who said that scientists shouldn't make assumptions? It was a lot easier _not to_ when their superiors were forthcoming with relevant information! As it was, Newton currently had to test his hypotheses himself. The hypothesis was that this Hermann hadn't drifted with his predecessors, so to test it, he casually responded to the man's questioning statement: “Yeah, that guy, you know how he is. Was.”   
  
“Not really, no,” Hermann said, confirming Newt's hypothesis but raising more questions, because he looked confused as to why Newton would ask such a thing.   
  
The new question: why would Hermann assume Newt knew he hadn't 'met' his predecessor? Hypothesis, uh...   
  
“I always wished I could have inherited his memory,” Hermann continued, right over Newt's internal hypothesizing. “I've read everything I could find regarding his work and his personal life, but I've always felt that if I could meet the man, all my points of data would fall into place.”   
  
New hypothesis: Hermann the whateverth was an Original Hermann _groupie._ A grrrroupie. That was rich! Laughter began to bubble up quietly from the pit of Newt's stomach, but Hermann wasn't done talking. (This Hermann was a good deal more chattery than the old one. Newt wondered where in the heck that had come from.)   
  
“You knew him. At least, you have the memories of having known him. I've accepted that I will never be able to experience his life through his own eyes, but I ask humbly that you let me... borrow yours.”   
  
It was with those words that Newt had an epiphany. A small epiphany. He came to an interesting realization, one that probably shouldn't have been too much of a surprise: Hermann didn't know that his and Newton's predecessors had drifted. It wasn't common knowledge. _He_ knew. Hermann the First had known. The PPDC had known because Hermann was meticulous when filing reports. Close friends had known. But the public didn't know, and it wasn't in history books. If Hermann the whatever th's ancestors hadn't thought to give him their drift memories, it made sense they hadn't bothered to pass on the other important details of Hermann Gottlieb's life, like the fact that he'd freaking drifted with not only Newton but the Kaiju.   
  
And here he was, practically begging Newt for scraps.   
  
The conclusion: Hermann was going to be in for a shock. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, meant to post this earlier. Sorry! ^^; Had a weird month.

In his research into Hermann the First's life, Hermann had, of course, come across a decent amount of information pertaining to his lab partner, Newton Geiszler, who had also been fairly instrumental in closing the Breach. He'd learned everything about the man that he'd felt he needed to know, at the time, but he'd never thought he would actually _meet_ the man or, rather, one of his memory-holding descendants.   
  
In all honesty, though Hermann complained about how stupid his family had been in letting go of the drift, nearly everyone was doing it at the time, and it wasn't only _his_ family who lost their history. Long family-line drift usage had decreased by nearly 95% that generation. The fact that this Newton had the memories was practically a miracle.   
  
Descriptions of Newton the First had included such phrases as “stubborn and defies convention”; if Hermann had thought those traits would carry on through the centuries enough that his drift wouldn't be interrupted despite the common trend, he'd have studied the man in preparation of perhaps one day meeting him. As it was, he knew that Newton had been about the same age as Hermann, that they'd both been of German origin, and that Newton had preferred life sciences as opposed to his own predecessor's preference toward mathematics. He knew they'd worked together for nearly a decade, and he assumed they'd been friends of a sort, in the way that you can't _not_ be friends with someone you see nearly every day.   
  
But of course, assumptions are ill-befitting a scientist.   
  
Newton smirked. “Are you kiddin' me? I can do a lot better than that.”   
  
Hermann didn't know what he meant by that, but it sounded good. It sounded _very_ good. “What are you saying?”   
  
“I'm _saying_ , your family doesn't keep a real good record of its paragons' history, does it?”   
  
“Not within recent years, no,” Hermann said, bitter as ever about that particular point. “What has that got to do with...?”  
  
By this point, Newton had stood up and come to stand closer to where Hermann was still seated, though not quite close enough that Hermann was in range of his excited gesturing. “ _Because,_ ” Newton said, “that means you're missing out on a few critical details about your hero. Look, what do the history books say Hermann Gottlieb did to help end the war?”   
  
It seemed like Newton might have meant it as a rhetorical question because it was improbable that he didn't know something that basic, but Hermann shot him a quick answer anyway. “Using data provided by Kaiju experts, er, your ancestor, I suppose, he simulated all possible outcomes of interaction with the Breach and pitted them against the real-time statistics of the final Jaegers, deriving the answer just before the Jaegers' fruitless destruction. In a nutshell.” It was a story he knew like the back of his hand. Although, apparently...   
  
Newton scoffed. “Man, that is so wrong I can't even believe they teach that in schools. I mean, it's not _wrong_ wrong, it's just missing the awesomest part!”   
  
Hermann raised a skeptical eyebrow, the usual response to conspiracy theorists who swore up and down that the war had been won by more nefarious or exciting means, but then he remembered who he was talking to, that Newton Geiszler was brought here by the HHDC because he had experience with Kaiju communication. This wasn't just some lunatic off the street. This was maybe the only man alive who knew for sure what had happened in the last days of the war. And he was the only one that knew the “awesomest part”? The awesomest thing that Hermann Gottlieb had done, more amazing than utilizing ten-plus years of intense ground-breaking research to end what was often called a war but was, in reality, more of a massacre?   
  
“Tell me,” he said, voice faint as his mind spun with possibilities and the simultaneous denial that there could be anything more impressive about his forefather than what he'd known since he was a child.   
  
He didn't notice he'd stood up until he realized he had to glance down slightly to see Newton cross his arms jauntily. His grin looked even more mischievous from this higher vantage point. Hermann's heart stuttered in anticipation. “The awesomest part,” Newton began, “the part they don't teach you in school, is that they discovered the secret of the Breach through bravery, man, not just brains. Our ancestors _drifted_ with the Kaiju hivemind! Your family seriously didn't tell you?”   
  
That may or may not have been a rhetorical question, but it wouldn't be getting a direct answer any time soon. “...What?” Hermann asked with a minimum of coherence. Had Newton just said they drifted with the _Kaiju?_ Drifted? _They_ drifted? The two of them? Together? With the _Kaiju?_ “No, that doesn't make sense.”   
  
Newton sighed fairly dramatically and took a step back. “Come on, don't be one of those guys. It makes perfect sense!”   
  
How did drifting with the Kaiju make any sense at all? It was insane! Was Newton implying that Hermann's predecessor had come up with such an absurd idea? Hermann Gottlieb was supposed to have been an intelligent, calculated genius!   
  
“Did you really think he actually ran a simulation and came up with the answer right in the nick of time?” Newton leveled a disappointed look in Hermann's direction. “That kind of crap doesn't happen in real life. My ancestor and your ancestor drifted with a dead baby kaiju and that's how they knew how to close the Breach.”   
  
It was hard for Hermann to wrap his mind around this. It sounded even more ridiculous than a lot of the stupid theories he'd heard before. Was he even entirely sure Newton was telling the truth? For that matter, was this Newton really a descendant of the original Newton Geiszler at all? Well, yes, he probably was. Doubting his identity did a disservice to Major Webb and the HHDC's security services. The Major seemed like a very thorough woman; it was unlikely she would ever have the wool pulled over her eyes by a Geiszler impersonator. What would one even hope to accomplish by coming here and lying about something like this? Although, if it were true what Newton was saying, why didn't he know? Why would history lie to them about how the Breach was closed? Was this the only thing they'd been lied to about? What else that he'd always believed in was now to be found false?   
  
“Hey. Hermann.”   
  
He found he was sitting again, hunched over and staring at the space between his knees. He looked up at Newton, whose expression had become concerned.   
  
“You're not taking this as well as I thought you would. I didn't break you, did I?”   
  
“Why would I...?” The breath in Hermann's throat felt hot and thick and devoid of oxygen, and the words fell out like heavy quiet clouds.   
  
“Huh?”   
  
“Why would I-- How could I take this well?”   
  
He was staring somewhere in the vicinity of Newton's stomach but he wasn't seeing him or the room around them. He was seeing stars. Space. He'd never been out there before, out of the atmosphere, to the moon, or the colonies. It wasn't that he was afraid of flying, but he liked Earth. Good old solid, predictable Earth. Maybe a part of him wanted adventure, wanted to see what was out there, but a greater part of him listened to his instinct that said that what was out there in the great unknown was something to be avoided. What was out there somewhere was the Kaiju and their ghastly Masters. He'd come here to the HHDC to offer his services, to help finally destroy that great enemy of humanity's because he thought he understood through generations of fear passed down from parent to child just how frightening the Kaiju were. He thought he'd join a task-force of the brightest minds and through intelligence and perseverance figure out how to end this once and for all. But from everything Newton was implying...   
  
“Dr. Geiszler, nobody could take this well!”   
  
Newton made a face. “Call me Newt.”   
  
Hermann took the interruption in stride. “Newt. Nobody could easily accept hearing that their storied forefather won a war by mind-melding with monsters! If I understand what you're saying, then the only reason we closed the Breach at all is because they _told us how.”  
  
_ “Well, yeah, sort of.” Newt shrugged. “But that's just taking advantage of your resources. That doesn't make what they did any less badass!”   
  
“'Badass' aside, you're telling me that he _became one_ with the collective consciousness of a murderous alien species, and I'm supposed to be okay with that!”   
  
“You're missing the point!” Newt yelled, arms extended like he was this close to shaking Hermann. “The _point_ is, Hermann didn't just drift with the Kaiju, he drifted with me!”   
  
A chaotic noise had built up in Hermann's brain as he'd argued with Newt, but here it fell away like the ocean tide, leaving an almost ringing quietness.   
  
“With my ancestor, I mean,” Newt amended. “I have their memories in here,” he said, tapping his temple lightly for emphasis. “I can let you have them. It's pretty dumb your family didn't hold on to them, 'cuz then you could've had his whole life instead of just the first part but hey, anything's better than nothing, right?”   
  
“Right...,” Hermann agreed faintly. Forget what he had just been worrying about. He already had. Something about Kaiju; it was unimportant. All processing power was now being redirected to the miracle that had just fallen out of Newt's mouth. He reached for Newt's hand and held on to it awkwardly. “You're telling the truth? You would do this for me?”   
  
Newt readjusted their hands into a firm, friendly handshake. “Yeah, man, I said I would. It's not like it does me any good just to horde it all to myself anyway.”   
  
Part of Hermann still didn't quite believe that Newt wasn't lying to him, but the less-skeptical side of him was trembling with excitement at the thought of getting to meet his idol. “When can we do it? Could we do it now?”   
  
“Yeah, we'll have to talk to Webb about it but--,” Newt broke their handshake and took a step back to observe the smallish room, as if thinking maybe she had come in while they were arguing and they'd missed her. “Wasn't she supposed to be here?” He powered up his Oculus with a shake of his head and a few quick eye movements. “Hey, Webb, did you get caught up in another meeting or something? If you don't get here soon, Hermann's gonna eat all the good stuff and you'll be left with stale toast. Send.”   
  
Standing again, Hermann paced around the room as they waited for the Major's response. “I've never drifted before. Not aside from security and interview drifts, I mean. Never with a person. I hear it's like nothing else.”   
  
“Yeah, it's pretty cool,” Newt said, sitting back down on the couch where he'd been a few minutes ago. He threw a leg up on the second seat and his arms over the back. “Probably the coolest thing I've ever done.”   


“How many times have you...?”   
  
“Just once, with my mom, when I was fifteen. Typically they say you're supposed to wait until you're at least eighteen, but I'm glad she didn't make we wait. It probably wouldn't have made a difference. I mean, the drift is strong. It over-writes what's already there. Not in a bad way!” he added in a hurry. “Just that, y'know, it highlights all the compatible points, which is why it's so easy to drift with family. So, all the previous generations and I were probably already similar enough that it wouldn't be a problem to assimilate their personalities into mine, but it's still easier when you're younger, 'cuz there's less to work around. But of course the big reason I didn't want to wait was, you know, because I wanted to be part of that.”   
  
Hermann knew. He understood entirely the feeling that there was something else he was supposed to just intrinsically _have_ , even before he'd been told about the drift and his predecessor. Learning later that he'd never get to experience that was like learning that someone had cut out a piece of his heart when he was born and then _accidentally_ dropped it in an incinerator.   
  
Well, that was all in the past now, anyway. He still didn't entirely believe it. He thought he might be in shock a little bit.   
  
“Were you excited?” Hermann asked.   
  
Newt laughed and closed his eyes for a moment, like maybe he was recalling the fateful moment. “Are you kidding me? After that, driving, drinking and sex were small-time stuff! Then again, I guess doing something for the first time is never as exciting if you've already got the memory of a past-self doing it. Maybe that's why I never bothered with hobbies or addictions as much.”   
  
Newt's phrasing, his usage of the term “past-self”, made Hermann particularly curious. “Is that you how think of them? That those who came before you were your 'past selves'?” He wandered closer and came to sit on the couch's armrest near Newt's foot.   
  
“Ehh, yeah and no. I mean, my mom and grandpa are still alive, so it's easy to identify them in my head and shut them out most of the time. My great and great-great grandparents and etcetera, they all kind of blur into one. It's really only the first Newt that feels like another me. Or, I dunno, maybe I'm another him.”   
  
“Do you ever...” Hermann wasn't really sure how to say what he wanted to know without sounding potentially rude. “Do you ever have a hard time differentiating between your... selves?”   
  
“You mean do I ever forget which one I am?” Newt waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, not really.”   
  
In Hermann's opinion, it sounded like Newt wasn't quite telling the truth, but he didn't press it, if for no other reason than that Newt's attention was diverted to a response from the Major. His eyes lost focus as he listened.   
  
“...Okay, apparently Webb's not coming. I guess she forgot to tell us that this was supposed to be a one-on-one meeting. And she's busy all day, so we're gonna have to wait to talk to her about the drift.” He scratched his fingers back through his scruffy hair. “Man, she would have let us wait here all day! But hey, I guess we're free to go for now. You got any plans for the day?” He swung his leg back down to the floor and sat up properly.   
  
“I don't know,” Hermann said. “I thought the Major would have some instruction for me, but if she doesn't, I suppose I'll just go back to my room for now.”   
  
Newt stood and stretched. “Or I could show you around. You just got here yesterday, right? I'll be a way more fun guide than one of those creepy-ass androids.”   
  
Hermann wasn't bothered by the androids, but he agreed that this colorful man who was full of stories would be more fun to tour with than a bland robot. “Yes, please. I would appreciate that,” he said. He didn't ask if Newt would perhaps tell him more about his predecessor, but he hoped he might. Sure, he'd waited his whole life for a closer look and it wouldn't hurt him to wait a little longer, but he certainly didn't want to if he didn't have to. 

 


End file.
